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The incredulous shrinking audience hurried out in droves, yet this Next Wave Lear proved more intellectually engaging and viscerally entertaining than the lead-footed F. Murray Abraham rendition at the Public Theater in 1996 or the Globe's literal-minded go at it this past summer. Lauwers's sprint through the acts was glib, warmed-over Dada at worst, but at its beste.g., during the cacophonous Act V, replete with strobes and munchy vulturesthe production resembled a Fischerspooner multimedia tribute to the Wooster Group. Needcompany's elaborate bafflement before this unfathomable tragedy was exhausting but heartening. Shouldn't every true Lear be something of a catastrophe?